


The Outcast

by Yvette J (HowNovel)



Category: Starman (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-11-07
Updated: 1998-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-25 19:11:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/273771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowNovel/pseuds/Yvette%20J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While visiting a small town, Paul and Scott meet up with Peter Harding and his mother Maggie.  Peter is an outsider among his peers and in search of a friend, and Maggie has a secret that could not only end up destroying her, but also her son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Outcast

  
**The Outcast**  
By: Yvette J. 

© 1998. All rights reserved. This story is a work of fiction based on characters and situations created in the 1984 feature film and 1986-87 television series, _STARMAN_. It is an amateur publication circulated without profit for the enjoyment of fellow fans. No infringement of existing copyrights is intended.  
---  
  
The lone figure stood on the bridge as the sun began to descend behind the tall trees, which surrounded the park. Peter Harding stood alone, a bag of breadcrumbs in his hands, and the ducks swimming in the pond below. As the people walked through the area, they could hear the boy speaking as he tossed handfuls of bread into the water.

“Hello, my friends,” Peter spoke, as the ducks began quacking, he continued, “I know, I wasn’t here yesterday.” He held up his bag of breadcrumbs proudly, “but I have the bread from yesterday too. I wanted to come, but my father needed my help at the store.” His voice carried a note of pride in it; it wasn't very often that Joe Harding asked his son to do anything.

As he spoke, the people walking by shook their heads, but said nothing. They knew of Peter, and the word around the town was that he was the only sixteen-year-old still in the eighth grade. Most of the people also knew of Peter’s parents, his father was known to own ‘Harding’s Hardware’, one of the most profitable businesses in town. His mother did volunteer work and kept herself active at the local church. Maggie Harding was one of the best altos in the church choir and she was always asked to sing solos during the holidays.

Peter was different. Although he could boast a picture perfect family, and possessed a great deal of talent playing the violin, he had no friends his age, and most of the kids and teenagers picked on him and treated him like an outcast. Even his teachers seemed indifferent towards him and he had always been placed in special classes at school.

He threw the last pieces of bread over the bridge, and once it was gone, the ducks swam away. Peter watched sadly as they left. He knew that the ducks could never replace the feeling of having a real friend, but pretending that they were his friends seemed a better option than wallowing in self-pity.

As he turned to go, he could see the sun had disappeared behind the trees. He wandered over to where the swings were and sat down in one. He dug around in his backpack and found two granola bars and a bag of birdseed. He pulled out one of the granola bars and laid the backpack on the ground by his feet. As he opened the granola bar and took a bite, he sighed contentedly. His favorite time of the day was during dusk when he could go to the park alone and wait for the first star peek out. He knew that if he saw this particular star, then he could make a wish and it might come true.

His wishes were always the same, “God, if you can hear me, please send me a friend.” He repeated those words when the first star appeared overhead.

More stars began to appear and he looked up and saw two figures approach him. _It must be a miracle._ He thought when he saw them pass under a nearby street lamp and the light illuminated both of their faces. Seeing this, he realized that the boy looked as though he was about to collapse from fatigue. The man who was walking beside him appeared to be the only thing that was keeping the boy on his feet.

Peter could also see that they both carried duffel bags, and he concluded that they must be new to the area, as he had never seen either of them before. 

The teenager closed his eyes, but when he opened them again, the two people were gone, and he was alone again. He wiped his hands over his eyes and stood up. When he looked down at his hand, he could see that it was wet from his disappointed tears. He dried his hands on his jeans, and once again wiped his hand over his eyes. He knew that he could never go home crying, his father would not understand. Being a sensitive boy, he knew that it was not possible for him to tell his mother about his problems because she had been troubled by something as well. Peter had a feeling that something was wrong with her, but he did not dare mention it.

As he sat there, he began to think about his mother. Of all the people in his life, she was the only one who really understood him. His father was completely unapproachable and now it appeared as though his parents had suddenly switched places. His unusually strong mother now appeared weak and powerless over the smallest of things and his father, who was normally soft spoken, had suddenly become a take-charge kind of guy.

Peter managed to eat the rest of his granola bar, and stuffed the empty package inside his backpack. After a few minutes, he managed to regain control over his emotions, dried his eyes with a tissue, blew his nose, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and walked slowly out of the park. His worries for his parents concealed beneath a look of determination.  
  
---  
  
Paul Forrester and his son Scott made their way into the small community of Garrett, Colorado that evening and it came as a great relief for Scott, who had been suffering from a cold for the last few days. Paul checked them into a small hotel and after a hot shower; Scott collapsed on his bed and fell asleep.

The alien was concerned for the welfare of his son, but as he watched the boy sleeping, he thought that maybe Scott would be alright after he got a little bit more rest. _This body needs a little fresh air, and something to eat,_ he thought. Since coming back to Earth, he enjoyed the opportunities to eat many varieties of foods, and he knew that even though his son was sick, he needed something to eat to maintain his energy in case they had to leave there immediately.

His mind began to drift as he reached for his jacket. In a fluid movement, he managed to tuck the room key in his pocket, and reached for a piece of the hotel stationary in order to write a note to his son. He figured that if Scott woke up and he was not there, then the note would explain that he was only going out for a little while and would return later.

As he walked outside, his mind started drifting back to their narrow escape in Nebraska earlier that month. Scott had been enrolled in a school there, and things seemed to be going pretty well. Paul had managed to obtain a low profile job working as a house painter’s assistant. This job was a far cry from the normal jobs he got with magazines and newspapers, which hired him because of the real Forrester’s reputation as a photographer. If George Fox and the FSA had not have shown up there as unexpected as they had, Paul and Scott probably would have stayed where they were until Scott fully recovered from the cold.

After their escape, they were forced to camp out for about a week. It was during this time when a terrible rainstorm had swept through the midwestern states, forcing them to camp out in the rain. Scott's cold was getting progressively worse and that night it landed them in Garrett.

Paul walked across the parking lot and reaching the edge of it, he could see a park that overlooked a small lake. He had seen a young boy about Scott’s age there as they had made their way to the hotel, and he was curious of whether or not the boy might still be there. Since it was still early, he decided to check.

As he walked between a clump of trees and towards the swing set, he noticed the boy was no longer there. His gaze came to rest on the swing where the boy had been sitting and approached it. When he reached the vacated swing, he noticed a small silver object on the ground. He reached down to pick it up and noticed that it was a key attached to a silver star-shaped key ring.

Seconds later, Paul turned around and spotted a small group of bushes. Someone was hiding amidst them and he had a feeling that whoever it was might be was the same person who had lost it and returned to claim it. He held up the object and spoke softly in the direction of the bushes. “Is this yours?” As he spoke, he extended the object towards the area where he had seen movement.

The same boy that Paul had seen occupying the swing earlier crawled out from the bushes and looked up at him. Moments passed before the boy reached one hand out towards the key chain while the other tightly gripped the strap of the backpack.

Paul took a step forward but the boy backed up. “Are you afraid of me?” he finally asked, his hand still extended towards the boy with the key chain dangling from his fingertips.

The boy nodded.

Paul remained stationary but he whispered his assurances to the frightened boy. “Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you.” The object dangled before the boy’s eyes, and as he was speaking, the teenager hesitantly reached his hand out towards Paul’s outstretched hand.

When their fingers briefly touched, Paul could suddenly feel the heartbreaking sadness envelope him. “Are you all right?” he asked once the boy had taken the key chain and stuffed it in his pocket. 

In lieu of a response, the boy backed quickly away, but when he heard Paul’s gentle voice, he raised his head in surprise. No adult had ever spoken to him unless they had to, and there was no denying that this man was different. Instead of responding to the soft words, the boy silently turned away.

Paul imitated the gesture, all the while not fully understanding it. He turned to walk away from the swings and back in the direction of the hotel, but he suddenly stopped when he heard the teenager’s quavering voice.

“Thank you.”

Paul turned around and smiled, “you’re welcome.”

Without turning back around, the boy ran away. Once he had disappeared between a group of trees, Paul made his way back in the direction he had come in; his quest for food momentarily forgotten. When he entered the room and saw his son still sleeping, he knew that his questions about the boy’s mysterious behavior at the park would have to wait until morning.  
  
---  
  
The next morning, Paul woke up to hear his son groaning in his bed. “Dad, are you there?” Scott moaned. “I feel dizzy.”

“What is it?” Paul asked.

“I don’t know,” Scott’s face looked unusually pale, and Paul’s concern was mounting. “My face feels hot, but I feel so cold.”

Paul rested his hand on the forehead of his son. Upon feeling that his son had a fever, he grabbed the blanket off the other bed and covered him. “I’ve got to go and get some medicine for you, but I don’t know what to get.”

“Something against fever, Dad; just tell them I feel hot, and they’ll help you,” Scott said weakly holding out his hand to prevent his father from coming any closer. “I don’t want you to get sick though, so don’t come too close.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Paul said softly. He grasped his son’s outstretched hand with one hand and used the other to brush his son’s hair aside. He then stood up, went over to the sink, and grabbed a washcloth. Sticking the piece of cloth under the faucet, he turned on the water and allowed it to wash over it. Wringing it out, he carried it over and placed it gently against Scott’s forehead. The teenager flinched upon feeling the coolness of it, but after several seconds passed, he relaxed.

Paul waited until Scott had closed his eyes before grabbing the key from off the dresser and walking over to the door. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, just get some rest.” With a final glance towards his son, he stepped outside.

Closing the door behind him, Paul walked in the direction of the busy town square. There, he spotted a drug store and walked over and went inside. An old fashioned pharmacy greeted him and without thinking he walked to the back of the store and over towards a long counter. There, he saw a man who appeared to be in his mid 60’s. “Can you help me? I’m looking for some medicine for my son.”

The man took off his glasses and rubbed them with a small handkerchief before putting them back on. He then sought communication with Paul, “What are his symptoms?”

“Fever, I think, his face is very hot, and he’s complaining about dizziness,” Paul responded.

The man came from behind the counter and grabbed a small box off of a nearby shelf. “This should help,” he offered. “Your son probably caught the flu that’s been reported in the area.” He handed the medicine to Paul. “This should take care of everything, and make sure he gets plenty of rest and lots of fluids.”

Paul nodded and pulled out his wallet to pay for the medicine. “Thank you,” he said as he handed the pharmacist some money.

The man rang up the medicine and spoke to Paul, “My pleasure, you new here, I’ve never seen you in town before?”

“We’re just passing through,” Paul said simply accepting the small box and sliding it inside his pocket.

“Well, give your son at least three days before you continue on your way,” the kind man offered as he returned Paul’s change. “This medicine tends to make people tired, but it’s the best thing I can offer without a prescription. Just be sure that you follow the dosage instructions on the slip of paper inside the box.”

Paul nodded before thanking the pharmacist and leaving the shop.

As he made his way back across the courtyard, his gaze came to rest on a small old-fashioned gazebo. When he reached the opposite side of it, he noticed four boys. One of the boys he recalled seeing the night before in the park. He approached the group, and as he did, he could hear their loud voices.

“Hey dumb, dumb,” said one boy with a laugh. He pushed the boy onto the ground and Paul reached into his pocket subconsciously grabbing his sphere. “We roasted one of your friends last night,” he said and continued to laugh. A second boy took a swing at the other boy, who covered his face and backed up against the bushes. When he stumbled, the three boys continued to laugh.

“Why don't you say something, Stupid?” the third boy shouted as he grabbed the backpack and began to dig around in it. As he dug around, he began to throw the contents on the ground. “Well, look here fellas, Dummy’s learning to read.” He pulled out a book and began to flip through the pages.

The frightened boy raised his head and when he saw the book in the other boy’s hand, he reached out his hand and tried to grab the object away.

At that moment, Paul rushed over to where the boys were standing. As he came closer, he realized that the boys could not have been much older than Scott. He had a feeling that it would probably do little good to get involved, but when he saw the tears streaming down the boy’s cheeks, he stepped between the boys and their victim. “Why are you doing this?” he asked the boy who was still digging through the backpack.

“Why?” the boy sneered, “because he’s a nitwit.”

Paul shook his head thinking that he'd have to ask Scott later what a ‘nitwit’ was. He had the feeling that there was nothing nice at all about being called such a name, and extended his hand out towards the boys who held the backpack and books. “What do you want with his things?” he asked as he took a step closer to the group.

As Paul came closer, one of the boys turned and ran away without looking back. The gentle alien then turned and looked at the two boys who remained, and when they did not respond, he spoke again. “Why do you harm those who are different than you? Is this how you would define strength?”

The boy holding the backpack threw it to the ground and walked away without answering Paul’s question. The third boy looked at the man confronting him. Then he turned around to see if his friends were nearby. When he saw no one, he turned around and looked at Paul once again. He wordlessly surrendered the book. “You don’t seem so strong now that both of your friends are gone.”

“At least I can defend myself without getting the grown-ups involved,” he muttered as he walked away.

Paul looked up wanting to say something, but then thought better of it. There was no point in saying anything to the boy. He and his friends didn't seem to care anyway. His attention returned to the boy who was still on the ground, his face in his hands. The boy was crying and at that moment the alien wished that he could do more to help him.

He recalled how his son had to deal with bullies, but he could instinctively tell that this boy was different than his son. He needed someone to stand up for him. Wordlessly, Paul began to collect the objects that were strewn on the ground and returned them to the backpack. He dropped to his knees and rested his hands on the boy’s trembling shoulders.

“They’re gone,” he said gently. “You’re safe now.”

The boy looked up at Paul, his face still wet from his frightened tears. Using the sleeve of his shirt, he wiped his eyes and nose.

“What’s your name?” Paul asked softly.

“Peter,” the boy responded, his voice small.

Paul nodded and helped the boy to stand up. Once they were on their feet, he reached down and retrieved the backpack. This he handed to the boy. “I’m Paul,” he said with a gentle smile.

Peter nodded and accepted the backpack.

“Weren’t you the boy that was in the park last night?” Paul asked.

“Yeah, I sometimes go there to see my friends,” Peter said as he stared down at the ground.

Paul smiled, but despite his own presence, he began to scan the area to make certain the three boys were now gone. “Friends are very important, aren’t they?”

Peter nodded. “Where is your son? Why isn’t he with you now?”

“You know about him?”

“Yes, I saw him when you were going through the park last night.” Peter answered honestly. “You’re staying at the hotel, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Paul answered. “He’s still there, I had to get him some medicine, he’s been sick for a few days.” Unconsciously, he stuck his hand in his jacket pocket where the medicine was.

“I kind of thought he was,” Peter said honestly. “He looked really tired last night.”

Paul nodded affirming Peter’s words, but making note of the youth’s downtrodden appearance. It was the same expression he carried the night before, and it was precisely what he felt when he had touched the boy’s hands and shoulders. “Yes, he was very tired,” he began. “I get the impression that you were quite disappointed that we didn’t stop and at least say ‘hello’ last night. I’m sorry.”

Peter looked up. “How’d you know?” he asked.

“I could see it in your eyes,” Paul answered honestly. He looked around the area where they were standing and saw a woman standing off to the side of the gazebo. When his eyes met hers, she approached, but as she did, Peter turned around and smiled upon seeing her.

“Are you okay Peter?” She asked as soon as she had reached where they were standing. Once the boy nodded, she turned and looked at Paul. “My name is Maggie Harding, I’m Peter's mother.” She paused, “I saw everything, but was too far away to do anything about it. I want to thank you for looking out for my son.”

Paul shrugged his shoulders not saying a word, instead he started to back away and head back in the direction of the hotel. Now that Peter was safely with his mother, he could return and see how Scott was doing.

“I’ve never seen anyone treat Peter so kindly,” she offered weakly. 

Paul nodded but took another step back in the direction he intended on going in. “I’m sorry,” he offered gently as he looked from Peter to Maggie. He felt genuinely bad for the boy and his mother, but he was also thinking about his son. Finally he put his concerns into words. “I’d really like to stay and talk to you, but I have to get back to the hotel, my son is waiting and he’s sick,” he explained.

“What’s wrong with him?” Maggie asked. “Maybe I can help.”

Paul shook his head, “I don’t know exactly, he has a fever. The pharmacist said he probably has the flu that’s been going around.” He pulled the medicine out of his pocket and showed it to her.

“Mr. Bradley is pretty good about detecting these things,” Maggie offered. “This medicine is supposed to be really good for flu symptoms. I give it to Peter when he’s sick.”

“I hope that it will help,” Paul mumbled. He shuttered remembering when he was sick and had to depend on the skills of a human doctor to cure what could have killed him. He was grateful that Scott could handle colds and flu bugs, but still it concerned him whenever Scott got sick. That compounded with the danger of Fox finding them only added to his concerns.

“It should,” she said simply. When her eyes once more sought communication with Paul, he had turned around as if to walk away, but she began to follow him. “Let me come with you, maybe I can help.” She nodded to her son, who began to follow them.

Paul was grateful that he had been able to find some help for Scott when they reached the hotel room. He slid the medicine back inside his jacket pocket and grabbed the key and opened the door. If he had been alone, he would have simply touched the knob to open the door like he normally did.

When they entered the room, Scott was coughing pretty heavily and it seemed as though he was getting sicker by the minute. Paul slid out of his jacket, threw it on the chair, rushed to the bedside, and laid his hand on his son’s forehead. “Scott, I’m here.”

Upon contact with his son, Paul sighed deeply. Scott was much warmer than he had been earlier that morning, and he was losing hope on whether the medicine was going to help as much as he had been told.

Maggie watched these events take place, but after seconds passed she grabbed Paul’s jacket and retrieved the box of medicine from the pocket. She quickly opened the box and removed the bottle. Without reading the inserted pamphlet, she removed the lid, poured some into a small plastic measurer, sat the bottle on the sink, and walked over to the bed. She sat down, and bade Scott to sit up. “I have your medicine, Scott,” she whispered, some of the natural assertiveness returning to her voice. 

Scott looked at the stranger sitting by him but was too weak to fight. Instead, he looked up at his father, who simply nodded, and he allowed her to help him sit up. She reached for the small plastic cup and handed it to him.

Once Scott had taken the medicine, she helped him lay back down and covered him with the blanket. As he drifted off to sleep, Paul stood looking down at his son. He knew that he only had enough money for one night at the hotel, and with Scott so sick, he was afraid of what could happen if he had to take him to a camp ground rather than leaving him in a soft warm bed. He knew that if he moved his son, Scott would probably get sicker. This was exactly what happened when they had fled the small Nebraska town earlier that month.

His gaze came to rest on Peter who had been watching him curiously. Paul knew that there was something different about Peter, something that told the alien that the boy possessed the ability to read his thoughts. Paul’s own ability to detect emotions were intensified the strange feelings he had whenever he was around Peter.

As Paul tried to figure this out, Peter had walked over and began to whisper to his mother. Maggie’s eyes widened slightly, but after a few moments, she nodded and her eyes sought Paul’s.

“You shouldn’t be staying in a hotel,” she said gently. “Scott needs to be in a place where he can get some rest.”

Paul looked at Peter who simply nodded in concurrence to his mother’s words. He opened his mouth to speak, but Maggie cut him off.

“Why don’t you and Scott come and stay with us? I mean I know we’re practically strangers, but I think it’d be better if you weren’t totally on your own. Of course, I do understand if you had other plans.”

Paul looked at the woman with obvious gratitude. “Thank you, we accept.”

“I’ll go get my car,” she said before looking over at her son. “Peter, I want you to stay here with Paul and Scott.” When the boy nodded obediently, she opened the door, and left the room.

Turning away from the now closed door, Paul looked at Peter. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?” When he received a bashful nod, he smiled. “Thank you, we’re both grateful.”

Peter shrugged his shoulders before looking up at Paul. “I only did it because I hope that Scott would want to be my friend.” The teenager glanced over at Scott who was sleeping peacefully.

“I’m sure he would, Peter,” the alien said smiling.

The hope that shadowed Peter’s face was unmistakable, but then that disappeared and he looked at Paul. “Do you think I’m dumb?” he asked.

“No,” was Paul’s simple answer.

Peter looked down at his hands. “I must be the world’s biggest dummy.”

“Why do you say that? Is it because of what a couple of bullies have said?” Paul asked as they both sat down at the table.

“I talk dumb, and I’m still in the 8th grade,” he said, his face lined in misery. “I’m sixteen-years-old and everyone talks about me. They say I’m dumb. The other boys beat me up and call me names. They all treat me like I don’t have any feelings. You saw what happened in town this morning.”

“I saw three boys picking on someone who had no means of defending themselves. The way you speak doesn’t determine whether or not you’re smart,” Paul said as he rested his hands gently on the boy’s shoulders. “I think people put too much emphasis on how people say something rather than what they say.”

“Do you really mean it?” Peter asked not quite sure if he wanted to believe Paul’s words.

Paul nodded with a smile. “It’s true, one day people will open their eyes and see for themselves what a special person you are.”

“I don’t think that will ever happen,” Peter said. “At least not here.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Paul said gently. “Sometimes people fear those things they may not understand.”

“Is that why you tried to talk to me at the park last night when you found my key chain?” Peter asked.

Paul laughed, but his answer emerged. “Yes, that’s why. I think that everyone has something special to give. I believe that you have done that in offering to have us in your home. But, I have to ask, aside from Scott and you becoming friends, why did you want to help people you don’t even know?”

“I didn’t want you to be sad.” Peter said. “I thought that maybe it would make a difference and it would be better for Scott to sleep in a warm comfortable bed rather than on the ground in a campground.”

Paul looked at the teenager his assertions about him were accurate. Peter did possess the ability to telepathically communicate. The only trouble was that the boy had not yet realized it. “Helping Scott is really that important to you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I want to have a real friend,” Peter said. His gaze once again returned to his lap. “I hate being alone and not having anyone to talk to.”

“What about your friends at the park?” Paul asked.

“You mean the ducks?” Peter asked. “Those aren’t real friends, they’re only there to eat the bread crumbs and then they swim away. I’ve been fooling myself into believing that a bunch of ducks can be my friends.”

Paul reached over and rested one of his hands on Peter’s arm. As he did, the emotions emanating from the young boy rushed in. Peter’s thoughts were so well defined that Paul could sense them almost immediately. He understood the boy’s feelings far better than he could ever know. Being the only one of his kind on this world, he sometimes experienced those very same feelings of isolation.

“Is he going to be okay?” Peter asked after a moment or two of silence had passed. He could still see the mark of concern lining Paul’s face.

Paul sighed deeply, “I hope so.”

“You’re worried, aren’t you?” Peter asked and when Paul nodded, he continued. “Don’t worry my mom will take good care of him. She helped me when I had bronchitis last year. She gave me lots of soup, and there was even this medicine that tasted like grapes which helped my throat.” Peter rested his hand on Paul's arm and smiled encouragingly.

Somehow Paul found Peter’s words to be the most encouraging. Seconds later, someone knocked at the door and he stood up, went over, and opened the door.

Maggie was standing outside and she smiled warmly at him. “My car is in the parking lot,” she said before reaching for the two duffel bags that were next to the door. “You need to check out, and then we can get up to the house.”

Paul nodded and picked up the camera bag before following Maggie outside. He approached the car and laid his bag in trunk next to their other belongings.

Back inside, Maggie and Paul helped Scott out of bed, and practically carried him out to the car. Peter opened the door, they laid Scott in the back seat, and Peter climbed in next to him. He smiled, as the other teenager’s eyes wearily opened.

“We’re going to my house, Scott, and my mom’s going to help you get better,” Peter said.

Scott nodded weakly and closed his eyes.

After paying the bill for the room, Paul returned outside and climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door.

Maggie was last to get in and once she had started the car, she drove out of the parking lot.

Ten minutes after leaving the hotel, she parked the car in front of a country style house. She turned off the motor, got out of the car, and rushed to the front door. Paul got out as well before going and opening the back door so that Peter could get out.

Together the two of them helped Scott out of the car.

Once everyone was inside, Maggie showed them to the guest room, and Scott was able to lie down. Once she had pointed everything out to Paul, she left them alone and headed to the kitchen to make lunch.

During this time, Peter had returned to the car to get the bags and bring them inside. He took them to the guest room, knocked on the door, and handed the bags to Paul when the door was opened. Once the bags were delivered, Peter joined his mother in the kitchen.

When he came in and sat down at the table, Maggie had opened a can of soup and poured the contents into a bowl. “Mom, you know what?” When Maggie said nothing, Peter continued to speak, “Paul said that I’m not stupid like everybody else.”

Maggie put the bowl of soup in the microwave and turned to face her son. “He’s right, Peter, you’re not stupid.” She smiled gently, her face beginning to show strain from the morning’s events. “I’ve been telling you that for years, but why are the words of a stranger more convincing than your own mother’s?”

“I guess because he is a stranger,” Peter offered sheepishly. When he turned to face his mother, he noticed the exhaustion that was evident in her eyes. This, he tried to ignore.

“I think I understand,” Maggie said smiling. “You are smart enough to know that a mother is always going to be partial to her children. But, even if I wasn’t your mother, I would still say that you are very intelligent.”

Peter smiled brightly, but instead of responding to these words, he asked a completely unrelated question. “Do you think Dad will be upset because we asked them to stay?”

“He will probably be concerned,” she said, “but let me handle him, okay?”

Peter nodded and looked up as Paul entered the kitchen. “Scott’s asleep,” he said as he sat down at the table. Both Maggie and Peter could see that the alien’s face was strained with worry and instead of immediately responding to his words; she went over to the microwave when the timer went off.

She pulled the bowl out and placed it on the table in front of Paul. She then went over and pulled two slices of bread from the package on the counter. These she placed on a small plate and put it on the table. Finally, she grabbed a spoon from inside the drawer, walked over, and handed it to Paul.

“You need to eat something,” she said firmly. “You don’t need to get sick as well, that would do both of you very little good.”

“Thank you,” Paul accepted the spoon, and after tasting it, he began to stir the soup the way he’d often seen Scott do.

Maggie watched and waited for him to eat a spoonful of the soup before she spoke. “So where are you guys heading?”

“North,” he responded as he lowered the soup into the bowl. “We’re just passing through.”

“I see,” Maggie said. “From the looks of you guys it looks as though you’ve been on the road for quite some time.”

“My work makes us travel a lot.” Paul said, hoping that the conversation would not continue in the direction it had gone in. He casually glanced down at the bowl in front of him and started to casually stir the soup.

After a few moments had passed, Maggie nodded. “I don’t mean to pry into your personal story, Paul, I just get the feeling that you’re not telling us the whole story.”

Upon seeing Paul's eyes widen, Peter spoke. “Paul’s a photographer, Mom. He and Scott have to travel so he can get assignments.”

Paul glanced up from the soup as the spoon fell from his hand and landed in the bowl with a thud. _How much have I projected to this boy?_ He asked himself.

Instead of prying further, Maggie took a deep breath. “Freelance?”

“Yes.”

“Well, in that case, I won’t question you further, but I do think that you should eat that. I know you’re worried about Scott, but not eating will only make matters worse,” she said.

Seconds passed and finally Paul once more brought the spoon to his mouth.

Upon seeing that their guest was finally eating, Maggie stood up, went to the fridge, and opened the door. Once she found what she was looking for, she brought a large jar of peanut butter to the table. This she sat in front of Peter, and then grabbed two more slices of bread, a plate and a knife. Peter reached for the jar of peanut butter, and the knife and began to build himself a sandwich. 

Moments later, the door opened and slammed. “Maggie, I’m home.”

“Excuse me, that’s my husband, Joe,” Maggie stood up and made her way into the living room. 

As she entered the room, Joe was regarding his wife through bemused eyes. “What’s going on? When I pulled up, I noticed that the curtains in the guest room are drawn closed and it’s the middle of the day. Is there someone in there?”

“Yes, there is someone here,” she said simply.

“Who might that be?”

“Paul and his son Scott,” Maggie explained. “Peter and I met them today in town. Scott’s been sick for these last few days. We figured that they could stay here for a few days while he recovers. The curtains are closed because he’s asleep.”

“You know they could be dangerous,” Joe said, a deep crease forming above his eyes. Maggie knew this look far too well, her husband was concerned.

“I know you’re worried, but Paul defended Peter against the Williams boys this morning. You know how awful those kids are, and it was Paul who stepped in and got those bullies to leave,” Maggie said. “Besides, I couldn’t just leave them at the hotel, not when I can help them.”

“I don’t like this one bit. I ran into the sheriff at the shop, and he’s been putting out calls all morning,” Joe said in hushed tones, “he said the feds have been on a rampage since last Friday. The sheriff didn’t say who it was the feds were after, but he advised us to be careful and not to speak to strangers.”

“Oh come on Joe, Scott’s just a kid, what could he have done to get the feds hot and bothered?” Maggie asked. “I can understand your concern, but given what I have seen of them, Paul and Scott are pretty harmless. If you had seen Paul look out for Peter like I did, then you wouldn’t be the least bit worried about them being here.”

“Okay, if you’re so certain that everything is fine, I won’t argue with you about it. I guess I’d better go in there, introduce myself to our guests, and get a cup of coffee. It’s been a long morning." He followed Maggie into the kitchen, and greeted Paul. “Hi, I’m Joe Harding.” He extended his hand towards Paul and smiled.

“Paul Forrester,” he said softly as he stood up and shook hands with Maggie’s husband.

Joe pulled a chair and sat down at the table. “How’s it going, Pete’?”

Peter nodded his mouth full of peanut butter.

Maggie brought Joe a cup of coffee and sat back down at the table.  
  
---  
  
George Fox made it into town early that evening and checked into the same hotel that Paul and Scott had stayed in. Once inside his room, he sighed deeply. _Finally, I have some time away from Washington, away from the project, and a chance to spend it out in nature. I should do this more often,_ he thought as he dropped the small overnight bag he carried.

He had purposefully left all of his files back in Washington, which was, for the first time in 16 years astounding. Normally, he lived for his work and a vacation was not something he took very often. His choice to leave Washington came as a complete surprise to not only Wylie, his assistant, but also to General Wade, his superior.

As much as he wanted to admit that this was only a vacation, he had made the extra effort to notify the law enforcement in this county just in case Forrester and his son happened to be in the area. He did not expect too much feedback from the sheriff, but figured that out of habit, he would ask anyway.

The end finally came a little over a week ago, when he had traced the Alien and his son to a small town in Nebraska. Seconds before a successful capture, Wylie had managed to botch up the entire operation. Fox had been positively livid, but he still could not forget the words his ‘supposedly’ dumb assistant had said. “The world isn’t in any danger with Forrester or his kid; it’s in more danger because of the greenhouse effect.” Wylie had had enough, and George Fox was beginning to reach that point himself.

He remembered the time that Forrester had made the light show in California so the sheriff there would not look like an imbecile in the eyes of the townspeople. It was creature from outer space, but who really knew how much of a danger this being was to people there?

He sat down on the bed and sighed. His interviews with everyone the alien had encountered had turned up a dead end. Apparently the only person who was afraid was himself. Even Wylie seemed supportive of the idea of just leaving the alien and his son alone.

A silver object caught his eye on the floor near the foot of the bed. He got down on his hands and knees and began groping around for it. He gasped when he saw that it was a small silver marble that was lying under the bed. Grabbing it, he held it in the palm of his hand and began rolling it around. It was about the same size as the spheres the alien and his son carried.

_No, it couldn’t be,_ he thought, _but what if it is?_ A smile spread across his face as he stared down at it. There was no denying it, even without scientific proof, he figured that he was now holding the alien’s power in his hand. _Maybe this vacation was going to turn into the moment I have been waiting for, for the past sixteen years._ There was only one thing he was going to change this time, and that was that he was going to try to talk to Paul Forrester rather than at him.

His hand came to rest on his chest right over his heart. This had become the most important question he could imagine. The alien had saved his life, but his medical records were straight out of the ‘Twilight Zone’.

After one experience, he finally had his health back, and the only answer was that the alien had done something to help him after their escape from ‘Building 11’. _He must have done something,_ he was thinking. He rolled the object around his hand, _maybe he saved my life with this ball bearing, and if he comes back to get it, I can ask him._  
 _Maybe there was something to be said for the saying ‘You can attract more bees with honey than with vinegar.’_ He stood up and grabbed the Styrofoam cup off the bedside table and brought it to his lips. _Maybe this time, I can catch Forrester off guard, and reconcile with him once and for all._ He rolled the object around in his hands and continued sipping his coffee.  
  
---  
  
The following morning, Paul woke up to see Scott sitting up in bed reading a book. He was relieved to see that his son appeared to be much better. He turned towards him and tapped the book he was reading.

Scott laid it down on his lap, but looked up and smiled.

“Good morning,” Paul said as he crawled out of bed. “Are you feeling any better?”

Scott nodded, “yeah, a little bit. I woke up feeling disoriented, but then Maggie brought me some eggs and toast for breakfast and explained what happened yesterday. Peter came in a few minutes later and gave me this book to read. They’re really great people.”

Paul nodded, “yes, they are.” He paused for several seconds as he leaned over and rested his hand against his son’s forehead. “It feels like your fever broke somewhat. That’s good, I was pretty worried.”

“I was too, I didn’t know what was wrong with me,” Scott admitted.

“If I had known exactly what was wrong, I would have taken care of it,” Paul said as he pulled his sphere out of his pocket and held it between his thumb and forefinger. Seconds passed and he returned it to his pocket.

Scott frowned, and some seconds later, he practically threw the book across the room and jumped out of bed. Reaching the chair, he grabbed his jeans and frantically began to dig through the pockets. As he did, his face lost all its color. “Mine’s gone, Dad.”

Paul pulled his sphere from his pocket closed the door, and concentrated on the object in his hand. After seconds passed, the sphere returned to its natural state, and he returned it to his pocket. “You’re right, it’s probably back at the hotel.”

“How could I be so stupid and leave it there?” Scott asked.

“You weren’t stupid, you were sick,” Paul said as he buttoned his shirt. “I’ll go back to the hotel this morning and see if I can find it.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Scott asked as he looked around the room for a chair. The dizziness was not a thing of the past and the teenager was starting to sink to the floor.

In response to this, Paul reached out and grabbed hold of his son's arm and helped him back over to the bed. “No, you stay here. You’re not yet fully recovered.” He pulled his jacket on and before leaving the room he offered his son an encouraging smile. “I can handle this on my own.”

He opened the door, and saw Peter standing on the other side. “Good morning, Peter,” he offered.

The boy nodded but tried to look inside the room. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Paul asked.

“You did something in there,” the boy began. “I could this strange blue light under the door.”

“You saw a blue light?” Paul asked, all the while knowing what would come next but attempting to throw off the line of questioning.

“Yeah, it was shining out from under the door, and then just before I was about to knock, it was gone.” He paused when he noticed that Paul had a distressed look on his face. “I guess it was nothing important. Anyway, I thought I’d bring Scott another book since he’s feeling better now.”

“He’s not yet fully recovered but he is doing better thanks to you and your mother,” Paul said as he moved to one side so that Peter could enter the room.

Once the boy had gone inside, Paul started to make his way down the hall and into the living room. “Good morning, Maggie,” he offered when he saw the woman standing in the room with an iron in her hand.

“Good morning, Paul. Are you hungry? I could make you some breakfast,” Maggie offered setting the iron down and looking up at her guest.

“No I’m all right; I just need to go back into town. I left something important at the hotel,” he said.

“Do you know how to get there?” she asked.

Paul nodded, “I think so.”

“I’ll tell you what, I have to go downtown and get some groceries, why don't I take you to the hotel, drop you off, and then pick you up on the way back?” As she was speaking she turned the iron off.

“That’s very kind of you,” Paul began, “are you sure this isn’t any trouble?”

Maggie shook her head as she removed the apron she had been wearing. She bent down and unplugged the iron and slung the apron over the ironing board. “No, it was either I go this morning or we eat sawdust for lunch.” She laughed self-consciously at her own joke, but walked down the hall and knocked on the guest room door.

Peter opened the door, “Yeah, Mom.”

“Paul and I are going downtown to get some groceries, okay? We’ll be back in about an hour or so.” Maggie said. “If you boys go out, leave a note for your father, okay?”

Peter nodded, and Maggie returned to the living room.  
  
---  
  
After his mother had left, Peter closed the door before going over to the edge of the bed and sitting down. As he was getting comfortable, Peter looked at Scott for a split second before looking back down at his hands.

“What’s the matter?” Scott asked seeing the troubled expression in the other teenager’s eyes. Like his father, he could sense something very special about Peter, but he did not really know what it was.

Peter shook his head, “I don't know.”

Scott, accepting that glanced towards the window where the curtains were still drawn. “You know, it must be really a pain to be different in a small town.”

Peter nodded, “Yeah, it is. The other boys call me ‘dumb’ just because of the way I talk, but I’m not, I’m just not like them.”

Scott looked at Peter and shrugged his shoulders. “I know how you feel, I mean, I am different and because we travel a lot I’m always the new kid.”

“You, different? Scott, there’s nothing out of this world about you,” Peter objected.

“Maybe, maybe not. You can never be too sure.” Scott said inwardly smiling. It was strange, but Peter’s manner of speaking did not seem odd to him at all. In fact, his phrases somehow reminded him of his father’s speech patterns and his innocence. He could only conclude that maybe that is the reason he felt a strong kinship with Peter.

“Do you ever feel like an outcast?” Peter wanted to know.

Scott nodded, “yeah, I think everybody does now and then.”

“I feel that way all the time,” Peter confessed.

“I’m sorry.” Scott offered sincerely. He really did not understand why, but he had a feeling that before he and his father would leave this town, he’d be telling his new friend everything.  
  
---  
  
Twenty minutes later, Maggie let Paul out of the car in the hotel parking lot and he walked in the direction of the door leading into the lobby. After she drove away, he entered, and approached the reservation desk.

“Excuse me,” Paul spoke to the woman. “Is there a lost and found here?”

The woman raised her head but silently reached for a small carton that was on the floor. She placed this on the desk and without even a single word went back to reading her newspaper. Paul was left with the box.

He began to dig through the box and when he did not find the sphere, he slid the box back across the desk. “It’s not here,” he spoke.

The woman looked up from the newspaper, “I’m sorry, sir, that’s all we have. What are you looking for?”

Paul pulled the sphere from his pocket. “A good luck charm, it looks just like this.”

The woman looked at him skeptically. “Aren’t you a bit too old for a good luck charm?”

“It belongs to my son,” Paul answered.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just finished the night shift,” the woman offered, smiling weakly. “I’ll tell the maids to keep an eye out for it, if you want to leave a number where you can be reached.”

“No, I’ll check around outside, maybe he dropped it in the parking lot.”

“Okay, suit yourself.” The woman returned her attention to the newspaper. After several seconds, she raised her head again. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No thank you,” Paul said as he made his way back outside. Instead of scanning the parking lot, he made his way slowly towards the door of the room where he and Scott had stayed. He hoped, all the while that there would be no one inside the room.

_I should have asked the lady in the lobby,_ he thought, but he knew that if he placed too much emphasis on it, then she would probably start asking questions that could not easily be answered. He would have to take a chance and try to get the other sphere by sneaking into the room.

He looked around to make sure no one else was in the area before placing his hand on the knob. The door clicked open and he sighed deeply when he saw someone was asleep on the bed.

He entered the room and closed the door. Approaching the bed, he wondered if he could get the sphere back and be out of the room before the person woke up. As he came closer to the bed, he could see the silver of the sphere clenched tightly in the fist of the person sleeping.

Paul’s eyes widened and he gasped when he saw that the person was George Fox. He crouched down beside the bed and was level with Fox’s eyes when they suddenly opened. In his surprise, Paul fell back on his bottom and hit his head against the corner of the table. He could feel the dizziness overwhelm him and rather than standing up, he backed a few inches away from the FSA agent.

For his part, Fox threw the covers aside and crawled out of bed. Grinning impishly, he looked down at the Starman still sitting on the floor and holding his head in his hands. “You know, I had this feeling you would be back, Forrester,” Fox said with a smile in his voice. “I just had no idea that you would break into a hotel room to get your magic marble.”

Paul stumbled back towards the door. With or without the sphere, he knew that his freedom was more important and he had to get out of that room. He tried to stand up, but the impact that the table had on his head made it too painful to stand up and he fell back down on the floor. Eventually, he managed to crawl over towards the door and used the doorknob to help him up off the floor. Once he was on his feet, he turned the knob in a helpless attempt to get out of the room.

Before he could pull the door open, Fox rushed towards the door and pushed it closed with all the strength he had. Paul’s hand was still covering the area where he had hit his head and at this moment he realized that Fox had him trapped inside the room.

Paul reached into his pocket in hopes of retrieving the sphere he carried.

When Fox saw the silver of the sphere, he held up his hands in exasperation. “Can’t we just talk?” Fox finally asked, his voice sounding tired. “I won’t do anything; I just want to talk to you.”

“I have tried to talk to you Mr. Fox,” Paul whispered, “but you never listened to me. Why should I believe that you simply want to talk to me now?”

“Because, what I have to say right now is the truth,” Fox responded all the while trying to keep the usual edge out of his voice. “Something happened in Nebraska, and I started to think about everything that has happened over the last few years. Please, I’m telling you the truth.”

Paul’s hand moved from his head outward toward the man who had tormented him and his son for the past sixteen years, but right before he was able make contact with George Fox, the FSA agent subconsciously backed away.

Noticing Fox’s retreat, Paul simply returned his hand to his forehead and allowed his body to slide to the floor. As he did, his weight leaned up against the closed door. After an awkward moment, he looked up at his tormentor.

Fox was still holding the sphere in his hand, but looked down at the man. “Maybe you should do something for your head; it looks like you’re in great pain.” He dropped the sphere in Paul's hand.

Instead of healing the bruise on his head, as Fox expected, Paul quickly stuffed the sphere in his pocket. 

Fox could hardly believe that he had actually given the sphere back to the alien, but when Paul did nothing with it, Fox became agitated. “Why didn’t you heal your head? You’re capable, right?”

Paul nodded, “yes, but I don’t want to frighten you. It seems whenever I do something weird, I scare you.”

“Who said I was scared?” Fox fired back.

“You backed away from me when I reached out towards you. Someone who isn’t afraid wouldn’t have backed up,” Paul said softly. “You’re afraid of me, even after I have told you that I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Fox’s expression hardened, “maybe I’m still wondering if I can trust you.”

“You gave me the sphere back. I don’t think you would have done that if you didn’t trust me,” Paul returned. “If I was going to destroy you, don’t you think I would have once I had the sphere in my hand?”

“You’re speaking in digressions. I want to know why you didn’t cure yourself after I gave you your power source.” Fox’s temper was beginning to flare up again and he tried to keep his voice steady.

“I can do that later,” Paul answered, still not certain if he could really trust the actions of his adversary without the contact he had attempted earlier. Finally, he sought to make eye contact with Fox. “What made you want to talk rather than interrogate me?”

“Who said I did? I still want to know why you’re here. I just figured that I could probably get the answers I want without having to repeat what happened at ‘Building 11’.” He looked at Paul intently.

“Mr. Fox, you know I can’t tell you what you want to know. The things I have told you, you didn’t believe.” Paul said. By sheer will, he stood up and opened the door. “Why can’t you just accept the fact that I am here solely to be a father to my son and that I won’t harm anyone?”

“Listen, Forrester, it has taken a lot of time and effort to convince me that maybe I put more emphasis on this case than necessary.” Fox was fighting for control and his voice began to rise in pitch and intensity. “I just want to understand.” George Fox looked at the alien, “I just thought that if we talked...” His voice trailed off when he realized that Paul was no longer standing there and that he had slowly walked out of the room and made his way back in the direction of the center of town.

George Fox stood in the open doorway as he watched Paul’s retreating back. He wanted to call out to him, but decided that the best thing he could do would be to close the door and get dressed. _Maybe trying to talk to the alien was a big mistake,_ he thought, _maybe the only way to get the answers he needed was through intensive interrogation._ He shook his head, _no, it was my damn temper, if I had kept my cool, and then maybe he would have talked to me._

_There had to be a way to resolve this. I had willingly returned the sphere to the alien, and rather than feeling angry about it, I’m relieved. Maybe that action alone will persuade Forrester that I really do want to talk to him,_ he thought.

He closed the door and turned away. _I know I deserved that, but there is so much I don't understand,_ he thought to himself. He started packing his belongings, but stopped. The two fugitives would probably leave town today, and I am on vacation. He tossed the overnight case in the corner of the room. _I reserved this room for a week, and I am going to stay the week. If Forrester and the boy are going to be leaving, let them._ Fox suddenly remembered the heart attack he had at ‘Building 11’. He was becoming more and more convinced that the alien had saved his life. Of all the things he learned through his training, one of the biggest lessons was to know when you've lost a battle and to give up.  
  
---  
  
Paul was standing near the town center, his thoughts literally running ninety miles a minute. Fox is in town and he knew that within a short period of time, the entire FSA would be descending on this small town. He wanted himself and Scott to be long gone by the time that happened.

_Maybe I should have tried to talk to Fox,_ Paul thought, but he knew that he was frightened, and fear makes people react irrationally. Fox had returned the sphere, but he wondered if it was a trap or if the FSA agent was serious about letting them go. This uncertainty loomed over his head, and without the chance to touch the hand of his aggressor; Paul was left with a number of unanswered questions.

Seconds passed, and he saw Maggie approaching him. _She and her family helped us, and eventually, I will have to tell her something not only about us but about her son’s telepathic abilities._

Paul recalled the day before when Peter had mentioned his job. Maggie would eventually confront him about the real reason they were on the road. He sighed deeply, and slowly walked over towards the gazebo to meet her.

Upon seeing him, she started walking towards him with the intention of meeting him halfway. “What on earth happened to you?” she asked, once he reached her and she had seen the extent of his injury. She reached her hand out towards his forehead.

Paul shrugged not sure what he should say. At this point, he knew that they would have to leave and she would want to know why. How would he explain this choice to her or to Peter?

Instead of waiting for an answer, Maggie led Paul to the car. Once they had loaded all the groceries in the trunk, they climbed in and she started the motor. “You guys seem to live rather dangerously,” she offered as she drove back in the direction of the house.

When she pulled the car up their long driveway, she cut the motor, turned to Paul, and began to speak. “I want to know exactly what’s going on. You go to pick up what you left at the hotel, and you come out looking as though you were in a wrestling match. This may sound quite obvious, but are you in some kind of trouble?”

“If I even attempt to explain what happened to you, then you would be dragged into our problems.” Paul answered. “I can’t do that to you. It wouldn’t be fair to you or your family.”

“I want to help you, and so does my son, but I’m confused,” Maggie said.

Paul opened the door but turned back to face her, “I’m sorry, but I can’t explain this. The best thing would be if we just leave.” He got out of the car and closed the passenger side door.

Maggie scrambled out of the car, and began to follow him. “Please, if you would at least tell me something, maybe I can help like you did when you helped my son.”

Paul shook his head. “If I tell you then it will only make things worse for all of you. Maggie, the truth is, Scott and I have to try to get along on our own. We didn’t come here with the intention of inconveniencing you or your family. We have to leave, immediately. I’m really sorry.”

As he started to walk towards the front door, Maggie spoke again, curiosity now getting the better of her. “Did you at least get what you left at the hotel?” she asked, all the while pondering whether or not it had anything to do with what happened to him after she dropped him off.

He nodded; the confrontation with George Fox still fresh in his mind.

As Paul was walking towards the front door, Maggie reached out and grabbed his arm.

Upon feeling her insistent touch, Paul’s eyes widened and he turned around to face her. “Perhaps before we go, you and I should talk,” he said.

When her gaze locked with his, he watched her nodding slowly and motion in the direction of a small red colored barn. This was situated not too far away from the house.

As son as they had entered the barn, she grabbed a lawn chair and unfolded it. Sitting down, she waited for Paul to follow her lead. Once he had sat down across from her, she lowered her head and felt the tears brimming beneath her eyes. For some reason, she could not bring herself to speak.

Paul eventually broke the silence. “Are you afraid of me, Maggie?” he asked gently.

“Should I be?” she responded to his question with one of her own.

Paul shook his head, “no, you have nothing to be afraid of.”

Maggie swallowed hard, but finally found her voice. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but if you leave, then Peter will be alone again.” Maggie looked up at Paul, misery showing in her face. “You and Scott are the only friends Peter has, and I have a feeling it is within your power to help him. I don’t know what I can do for him.” As she spoke, she rubbed the tears from her eyes and reached in her purse for a tissue.

“You’re afraid of something that you have no control over.”

Maggie nodded.

“Why?” Paul asked. He grabbed hold of her hands wondering if the feelings he experienced earlier were real. When he felt the same thing curse through him, he nodded as though he understood why it was so important to her that he and Scott remain there. He looked deeply into her eyes.

Maggie did not immediately respond, instead she pulled her hands out of his and attempted to brush the tears away. “I just think that hearing good things from a friend is more important than a mother trying to reaffirm it. In fact, Peter said so himself.”

“How long have you been sick Maggie?” Paul finally asked putting the emotions he felt from her into words. He rested his hands on her shoulders.

“How did you know?” Maggie asked feeling a shiver go through her when he touched her. She pulled away from him and looked at him suspiciously.

“I can sense it,” Paul said, “I have this ability and I believe that Peter does too.”

“What ability?” Maggie asked. “What are you talking about?”

“I think Peter has the ability to sense and detect emotions,” Paul said. “I don’t believe he is aware that he can do this, and unless someone has told him, he will probably go on being able to do this without knowing or understanding why.”

Maggie nodded not entirely certain she wanted to know something else that made her son different from the rest of the boys in Garrett. “If he has this ability you speak of, should he know about it?”

“No, he would have to learn it on his own,” Paul said gently. “My son has this ability as well, but it is latent. It means that in time, he will come to understand and accept what it is about him that sets him apart from other people.”

“But Scott isn’t different, he’s a normal teenage boy,” Maggie argued. “Peter has been battling feelings of isolation ever since he was little, and it is not getting any easier for him. The boys still treat him like an outcast. You saw what happened yesterday in town.” Maggie was beginning to lose her composure once again and she reached for her purse, hoping to find another tissue.

Paul reached over and grabbed hold of both of her hands. This distracted her from her quest for a tissue. After several seconds, he spoke again. “Peter doesn’t know about your health problems, does he?”

Maggie shook her head. “No, and I ask that you not speak to him about it.”

“Based on what I have already told you, Peter may already sense something is wrong. It’s the very same as what I was able to sense when I touched your hand.”

Maggie looked as though she had been struck and pulled her hands out of Paul’s hold. “How is it that both you and Scott have this ability, and people like Joe and I don’t?”

Paul swallowed hard; he knew that answering this question would expose himself and Scott. “Is the answer really so important to you?”

“I don’t know,” Maggie said weakly. She paused for a moment, and then spoke again. “I’ve got cancer, Paul. The doctor has said that I have maybe two months left.” She looked at him once again, misery evident in her features. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell Peter about it just because he’s so sensitive about things, and we’ve always been so close. With me gone, I don’t know what will happen between him and Joe.”

Paul looked at her again. “Does Joe know?”

Maggie nodded, the tears continuing to stream down her cheeks. “He and I were together when the diagnosis came out, and we agreed that we weren’t going to tell Peter until later. He’s had enough trouble fitting in here and he and Joe have always had a rocky relationship. You and Scott are like the miracle he’s been praying for.”

“And you think that as long as we are here, Peter will be happy regardless of what happens to you,” Paul said softly all the while trying to make some kind of sense of the emotions he felt when he had touched her hand. “I don’t think that Peter would want to replace you, you’re his mother and new friends can never replace the love and nurturing that a mother can give.”

The tears continued to stream down her cheeks and she groped in her purse once again for a tissue. When she could not find one, she started wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse. “Do you think I don’t know that?” She asked bitterly.

Paul sighed deeply, but eventually he nodded. He wanted offer her some consoling words but he honestly did not know what to say. Remembering when Julie Radin had cried in front of him, he stood up and kneeled down in front of her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her while she cried. The fear that he felt coming from her was overwhelming, but he remained where he was.

After a few moments, he swallowed the lump in his throat. “We’ll stay for a couple of days, if it would help, but to be fair to you, Scott and I are in trouble and I don’t think it would be appropriate to try to explain everything. All I can tell you right now is that we would never hurt anyone and if you want us to go, we will.”

She shook her head before breaking the embrace. “No, for Peter’s sake, please stay. If you leave, he would only be able to conclude that you and Scott didn’t care about him.” Standing up, she folded the chair before leaning it against the wall. She then turned away from him, opened the barn door, and made her way towards the car to retrieve the groceries, which were still in the trunk.

“I think that you should tell him what you told me. He needs to hear it from you,” he eventually said before she walked across the lawn and into the house. As he followed her, he took a deep breath. “Scott and I will eventually leave Garrett, and it will likely be before the week ends.”

Maggie nodded, but turned back around, and wiped the last of the tears from her eyes. “I’m afraid,” was all she was able to say.

Paul nodded, “I know.” _I am too,_ he added silently to himself.

His thoughts continued to return to the confrontation he had with George Fox back at the hotel. Fox knew that he and Scott were in town, and it would only be a matter of time before the FSA would descend on this town and capture him and his son. When he looked over at the woman standing next to him, he knew that they were doing the right thing, but he still had a sinking feeling about the entire situation. _Maybe Fox will believe that we are leaving, and move on,_ he thought to himself, but he didn't believe it.  
  
---  
  
Inside, Peter was playing some music for Scott on the violin. Scott sat up and continued to listen. When his friend had lowered the instrument, he spoke. “Wow, you’re really good. I used to run track, but I’ve never really been any good with music. How long have you played?”

“About six years,” Peter said. “Most people don’t like the violin, but I always liked it. I think my dad was kind of upset that I didn’t want to play sports. I’m not very athletic.”

“I don’t think my dad really understands sports,” Scott said honestly, “I think he prefers music.”

“My mother and I both love music,” Peter said. “She’s in the choir at the church. I get to hear her sing every year for Christmas, and she’s really great. She’s probably going to sing this year too.”

“That’s so cool, I mean; to have something that you both love and be able to share it like that,” Scott said. “I often wonder if my mother would like the same things I do.”

“Are you and your dad going to be here for Christmas?” Peter asked.

“I don’t think so, that’s five months away, and we have to constantly travel around so my dad can find work,” Scott said honestly. “I wish we could hear her sing, though,” he added noticing the sad look cross his friend’s face.

“She sings like an angel,” Peter said proudly, “everyone in town says so.”

“All I can play is the radio.” Scott grinned sheepishly at his friend.

Peter laughed as a knock interrupted their conversation; he sat down his violin, and went to open the door. Paul was standing on the opposite side. “Hi Peter,” he greeted the boy.

“You’re back, is my mom in the kitchen?” Peter asked as he moved away from the doorway so Paul could enter the room.

“Yes, she’s unpacking the groceries,” Paul said.

“I’d better go help her then,” Peter turned to Scott. “Lately she’s been kind of sick, and I don’t think she should be working so hard.” Peter grabbed his violin and walked out of the room.

As soon as he was gone, Paul closed the door.

“Did you find the sphere?” Scott asked once they were alone.

“Yes,” Paul answered as he handed the second sphere to his son.

Scott put it back in his pocket. “Man that's a relief. I don’t like not having it with me. I feel disconnected from you, and that’s kind of scary.”

Paul nodded; he understood this feeling very well. “We need to talk,” he finally said, all the while keeping his voice hushed.

“What happened, you look awful?” Scott asked noticing a small injury on his father’s forehead. Throughout all of this, Paul still had not repaired the damage done to his forehead back in the hotel room.

“Fox is in town, I almost got captured when I was at the hotel. He is now in the same room we were in,” Paul responded. “He had your sphere, but after I hit my head on the table, he gave it back. His behavior was very odd, he spoke to me as though he wanted to talk to me, but when I tried to make contact with him, he looked as though he was afraid of me.”

Scott looked horrified and crawled out of bed, and began packing his belongings. “I don’t trust him one bit. He has set traps to catch us before, and this is probably another of his attempts. Dad, we should pack and get out of here.”

Paul shook his head, “We can’t, not yet. There’s still something else that needs tending.”

“But, you just said Fox is in town,” Scott objected. “We should leave right away.” The teenager grabbed his duffel bag and started stuffing his belongings in it.

“Please, just stop and listen to me for a moment,” Paul said as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “It’s about Maggie.”

“What about her?”

“She’s very sick, Scott; like Stella Forrester was.”

“Did she tell you that?” Scott asked.

“In part, but when I touched her hand, I could feel it. She frightened about the future and then I told her we’d stay a few more days,” Paul said sadly.

Scott looked at his father still taking everything in. “Is Maggie dying, Dad?”

Paul nodded, “yes.”

“I take it Peter doesn’t know anything about her being sick?” Scott asked.

Paul shook his head, “no, she said that she and Joe will tell him later.”

“Did you tell her about Fox?” Scott asked.

“No, I wasn’t sure how much I could tell her about him without telling her everything,” Paul answered. “It seems to me that she has enough on her mind and if I did tell her something about why Fox is after us, she’d be afraid.” He took a deep breath, “the other thing is there was something different when I touched Maggie, Scott. I know what’s wrong with her, and I know that if I had a chance, I could fix it with the sphere.”

“You mean you could cure her of a terminal illness?” Scott was amazed. “Then what’s stopping you from doing it? Aren’t you the one that’s always talking about fixing things if you know what’s wrong with them?”

Paul contemplated his son’s words, but remembered Julie once more. She was blind and she had believed that Paul was a healer. He finally put his thoughts into words. “Remember how Julie reacted when I healed her burn? That’s why I can’t do it, at least not right now. If I told Maggie that I had the ability to make her healthy again, then she may reach the same conclusion as Julie did.”

“I don't think so, Julie and her family were pretty religious, and she thought you were like Jesus. I think that Maggie and Peter would accept you at face value,” Scott said rationally. “You can’t in all fairness believe that everyone who sees you use the sphere will react like Julie did.”

“I know, but I’m still not sure, that telling Maggie is such a good idea.” Paul said.

“What are we going to do then, Dad?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know what to do. Fox is here and he knows that we are as well. Chances are he won’t leave until he has some sort of proof that we are no longer here. If we stay, it means that we have to avoid going back into town. We are at a greater risk staying here, but if you had seen Maggie's face...” Paul's words trailed off.

“…Maybe we should tell Maggie and Peter the truth,” Scott offered. “If they know, then maybe you can cure Maggie, and we could leave guilt free.”

“Are we really prepared to tell them the whole truth, though? I want to be able to leave here ‘guilt free’ too, but is that the way to do it?” Paul said all the while know that he needed to talk with Peter alone. Once he did, then he would be able to find out everything that the boy knew about him and Scott.

“I don’t know,” Scott answered. “I think if it was me, I would cure Maggie and then blow this bird.” He grinned sheepishly when his father glanced over at him and his eyes widened.

“Strange,” Paul mused, “usually you are the one who doesn’t want anyone else to know the truth. Why are you are so willing to tell these people?” he asked curiously.

“I think it has something to do with what Peter told me earlier. He said that he didn’t see anything out of this world about me. I guess I figure that maybe he would feel a bit better about himself if he knew that someone else also has to deal with being different as well,” Scott answered. “Besides, you said yourself that I should be proud about who I am. I just figured that to someone like Peter it might help.”

“There’s something else, if we’re going to stay in Garrett, I need to find a job, but with Fox lurking about, it may prove to be more difficult,” Paul said. “We’re almost out of money.”

At that moment, there came a knock at the door. When Scott opened it, Maggie was standing on the other side. She held a damp washcloth in her hand, “Hi, how’s your forehead, Paul?” Her voice had emerged soft, which indicated that she was nervous about what they had discussed earlier.

Paul accepted the cloth and smiled, “I think it will be okay,” he said. He wiped the area above his right eye and removed the dried blood. “Thanks, that feels much better.”

Maggie nodded and rubbed her hands together. “Peter’s in the kitchen helping with lunch, and I thought maybe you’d like to join us. I was thinking that it’d be nice if we got some things together for tomorrow we could go to the park and have a picnic.”

Paul’s face went pale, but he answered affirmatively. “Sure, Maggie, that sounds nice.” He turned and looked at Scott, who was shaking his head. He knew what his son was thinking and instead of speaking, he simply gave his son the ‘trust me’ look.

Maggie left and Scott looked at his father skeptically. “Are you nuts? You just said yourself that we shouldn’t go near town, and now you want to go to the park with them for a picnic. The park is right next to the hotel. It’s like walking into the lion’s den.”

Paul remained silent. Rather than offer an answer to his unusual behavior, he left the room and walked down the hall towards the kitchen. Scott was left alone trying to sort out everything that his father had said and done.  
  
---  
  
The following afternoon, after they had packed up their lunch, Paul and Scott followed Maggie and Peter down the long driveway leading towards the road, which would lead into town. Maggie had opted to them walking because the distance between their house and the park was not too far, and there was no place to park the car except for the small parking lot adjacent to the hotel.

As they walked, Paul made his way over towards where Peter was walking alone. He was hoping that he would have a chance to speak to the teenager alone and concluded that he would have a better chance to do so before they reached the park.

The first thing Paul realized about Peter was that he seemed to be deep in thought about something. When he tugged on Peter’s sleeve, the boy did not say anything to him, but rather only seemed to acknowledge Paul’s presence with a nod of his head. He continued to walk as though he was ignoring Paul, but when he suddenly felt a sensation as though Paul had asked him a question, he turned his head. “Did you say something?” he asked Paul.

“No,” Paul answered, “Why?”

“I thought I heard you ask me a question,” Peter offered. When Paul did not offer a response, he shrugged his shoulders. “I could have sworn that I heard you say something. Maybe, I’m just imagining things again.”

Paul remained silent, but after a few moments passed, he decided to try again and sent another telepathic message to Peter, this time he projected to the boy that he was glad that Scott had found a friend in him.

Peter stopped walking, turned and faced Paul again. This time he said nothing. _Paul, why are you doing this to me?_ He thought to himself, but knew that he had not asked verbally. Instead he waited until he heard a non-verbal response. His eyes widened and he turned and looked at Paul, his expression laced in wonder.

Paul simply nodded, continuing a silent communication with the teenager. _Don't be afraid, he projected to the boy, you have a talent which I sensed the first time we met._

Peter looked at Paul, this was real, and this man was communicating with him using projections. He looked around to see if his mother was in the vicinity, but she and Scott were several meters ahead of them and carrying a large picnic basket. He looked back up at Paul, and backed up a couple of steps. “This time I know you said something, but it wasn’t like a normal conversation.”

Paul nodded, “yes, we were having a conversation. I’ve sensed that you had the capabilities of projecting your thoughts since the first time we met.”

Peter nodded trying to take everything in that Paul had said. At that moment, however, both of them heard a woman’s screams and Peter froze. “Mom,” was all he whispered. _I knew something was going to happen,_ he thought.

Paul looked at the boy a little surprised, but in a split second, he had grabbed Peter’s hand and the two of them ran as fast as they could in the direction of the park. Paul did not know how this could have happened, but right as they heard the scream, he had received a projected call for help from his son.  
  
---  
  
George Fox was out for an afternoon walk. He had made his way to the park when he saw a woman, and a teenager arrive. As he reached a clump of trees, he recognized the boy; it was Scott Hayden. Rather than approach them, he waited to see if Forrester was going to show up. He simply watched from behind the trees to see what would happen next.

As he stood there, two shabbily dressed men approached the two of them with their hands out. “Do you have any spare change?” one of them asked as Fox moved away from the trees and came somewhat closer to them. As he approached where they were standing, he could detect the unmistakable stench of alcohol emanating from the two men. Behind Scott, he could see that the woman was shaking her head, and when he was able to see her eyes, he could see that she was afraid. 

“I don't believe you,” one of the men was saying, and he grabbed for Maggie’s purse. She pulled with all her strength until the second man grabbed the upper part of her arm and upon feeling this, she winced in pain. The first man pulled her purse away and started digging through it.

Taking an opportunity, Scott reached out and grabbed the purse from the man. In doing so, he situated himself between the two men and his friend. Once he had the purse in his hand, he returned it to Maggie.

The first man’s attention quickly diverted to Scott, and he began to push the teenager. Clearly detecting the booze on the clothes of the two men, the teenager was able to conclude that they were both intoxicated. Thinking quickly, he grabbed the picnic basket off the ground and used it to act as a barrier between the two men and Maggie. Using the sides of the basket, he shoved it against the chest of one of the men. This enabled him to push them backwards. This proved foolish as the second man had come from one side and pushed the teenager away. He then reached out towards the woman, who screamed and started to back away.

Scott glared at the men and reached in his pocket and gripped his sphere tightly in his fist. Through the contact with the object he was able to call out to his father. _Dad, we need your help, where are you?_ He was so intent on concentrating that he didn't move until he heard a loud splash. He opened his eyes to hear Maggie screaming, and the two men running off with her purse. Eventually, he turned around and could see Maggie, in the lake, thrashing about.

Maggie could not swim, and she had not realized how close she was to the edge. She backed up once again, lost her footing, and fell backwards into the lake. She screamed again as the two men took off through the bushes, brushing past Fox. He remained concealed by the trees, but continued to observe the events taking place.

Scott stood paralyzed and watched Maggie flounder around in the lake for several seconds. Without thinking, he took off his jacket, tossed it on top of the picnic basket, and dived into the lake. As he swam towards the almost drowned woman, he sent out another desperate call to his father for help.

George Fox watched in surprise as Scott pulled the unconscious woman out of the lake. Upon seeing her face, he came out from behind the trees and made his way towards the two of them. He didn’t care if Scott saw him or not, all he thought about was that in his training for the FSA, he had learned CPR.

About three feet from the lake’s edge, he stopped suddenly when he saw Paul Forrester and another teenager running towards Scott and the unconscious woman. As the alien came closer to his son, Fox raised his head and made eye contact with Paul. At that moment, he slowly backed away from group, but continued to watch the dramatic events unfold from behind the clump of trees.

Once Paul reached Scott and Maggie, he kneeled down beside her and reached inside his pocket. When his gaze came to rest on his son, he noticed that Scott’s face was pale and he held Maggie’s head in his lap. “Dad, she’s swallowed so much water,” Scott said, his voice trembling. Fox could hear the fright in the teenager’s voice but remained where he was and watched.

Peter grabbed the hand of his mother as tears began to stream down his cheeks. “Mom,” he began sobbing, as he looked down at his mother’s prone body. “Paul,” the boy looked up at the man, his lips trembling, “You have the power, I know you do! Please do something.”

Paul pulled his sphere from his pocket and held it over Maggie’s still body. He knew that he did not have any time to loose, and at this moment, he realized why it was he and Scott had come with Peter and Maggie to the park in the first place. He would have to ask Peter about that later, but right now was not the time to do so. He took a deep breath and placed his hand on Maggie’s chest and concentrated on the sphere.

As he did this, Peter opened his eyes and looked up to see Paul deep in concentration and his mother bathed in blue light. His mouth opened, but no words emerged. Instead he maintained his grasp on Maggie’s hand and when he heard her cough up the water from the lake, he sighed with relief.

George Fox continued to watch from his hiding place as Paul saved the woman’s life. He continued to watch as the woman opened her eyes and Paul put the sphere back in his pocket and helped her to sit up. As Scott wrapped his jacket around the woman’s shoulders, Paul looked up and stared into those of the government agent.

At that moment, Fox backed away from the bushes and made his way back in the direction of the hotel. His mind was full of conflicting thoughts, but the events, which had taken place, were proof enough that the alien really did come back for the betterment of humanity. Seeing him save the life of this woman made tears catch in his eyes. Maybe in all of this, Wylie had been right. The world isn’t in any kind of danger with Forrester. Maybe what this crazy world needs is more people like this Starman. He reached his room, went inside and closed the door. 

_My vacation is going to be cut short again,_ he thought to himself grabbing a thermos of coffee off the table and pouring the contents into a Styrofoam cup. He grabbed the telephone from the cradle and booked a flight back to Washington for the following morning. This time his conscience cleared and a rare smile on his face. The miracle he had witnessed in the park would not be forgotten.  
  
---  
  
In the park, Maggie was drinking some juice as Paul was sitting down. Peter was looking at him with wide eyes, and Scott was catching his breath after his swim in the lake. Once she had finished the juice Paul had given to her, she spoke weakly, “thank you, Scott.”  
Scott nodded shrugging his shoulders.

“I think we should go back to the house,” Paul said calmly, closing the large picnic basket and picking it up. “It’s getting cooler and pneumonia would do both of you very little good.” He tossed his leather jacket to his son. 

Scott nodded in agreement and put it on. Together he and Peter helped Maggie to her feet and the four of them left the park.

Few words were spoken as they walked back to the Harding home. Peter and Scott walked beside Maggie. Peter was holding tightly to his mother’s hand. Behind them, Paul walked his mind never far away from the events of the lake. _How was it, that George Fox was there but never approached them?_ He wondered.

Once they had reached the house, Maggie and Scott excused themselves to go and change clothes.

As soon as they were alone, Paul pulled the sphere from his pocket. “I wanted to ask you how it is that you knew that I had the power to help your mother back at the lake.”

Peter shrugged his shoulders and asked a question of his own. “Are you going to blast me with that thing?” The boy’s eyes were wide as he stared at the object in Paul’s hand.

“No,” he said as he extended it to Peter. “Here, take it.”

Peter reached his hand out and hesitantly took the sphere from Paul. Finally, his eyes closed and he began to project his thoughts to the man sitting in his living room. _Who are you really?_

Paul began to concentrate and the sphere in Peter’s hand began to glow blue light. Through this, Paul conveyed to Peter who he was, why he was there, and the story of how he came to meet Scott's mother, Jenny Hayden. He concluded by conveying the trouble both he and Scott were in simply because of who he is. After several moments, the light vanished.

_You used the energy from this to save my mother's life,_ Peter projected to Paul as he handed the sphere back. _How could anyone ever consider you to be a threat to anyone?_

_Yes,_ Paul answered the first question, but hesitated to send out his projection to the second. Eventually he did. _Sometimes when people don’t understand something they react to it in fear._

Peter nodded, as though he understood. _You said something like that to me at the hotel a couple of days ago._  
 _You remembered._ Paul smiled. _I wanted to tell you that you have this ability and that this is the way my people communicate. By Earth standards, this form of communication is considered to be very advanced and most people do not possess the ability to communicate as we are._

Peter’s eyes brightened and he continued his half of the silent conversation. _Is that why you told me you didn't think I was dumb?_

Paul nodded. _Because of what you and possibly others have seen us do for your mother, Scott and I will have to leave. It is now too dangerous for us to stay here because of those I told you about who want to do us harm._

Peter sighed deeply but eventually nodded. He knew that Paul had spoken the truth. Finally, his green eyes sought Paul’s. _I knew who you were even before you saved my mother and projected to me with your sphere. I sensed it in the park the first time I saw you and Scott._

_You knew all this time that I didn’t come from your world?_ Paul asked.

_I wanted to talk to you about it, but I was afraid that you would be angry with me for intercepting your thoughts. I don't really know how to shut it off. Does that make sense? I mean when you finish playing a game or watching a TV show, you can turn the computer or the television off, but with this I cannot. I’ve known since I was 12 that I could do this, but I have always been afraid to tell anyone._

_So I was wrong in, believing you were unaware of your abilities._

Peter nodded, _I also realized that I can do something else, but I’ve never told anyone._

_You can sense the future._

_You knew that too?_ Peter was surprised.

_I figured it out because of what you were thinking just before we went ran to the lake to assist your mother. It was your idea to get all of us to the park this afternoon, wasn't it?_

Peter nodded affirming all of the things that Paul had projected. 

“You’re a hero, Peter. Because of your ability, you saved your mother’s life,” Paul spoke aloud.

“Me?” Peter’s eyes were wide.

Paul nodded as Maggie and Scott returned to the living room. Both were now in dry clothes. Scott placed their bags next to the front door as Paul got up from his place on the sofa and walked towards his son. “Scott and I have to go now.”

Scott nodded, “I have everything packed.”

Maggie looked at Paul desperately. “You can’t go, please.”

Paul looked at his son. “I need to talk to Maggie for a few minutes. Use this time to say good bye to Peter.”

Scott nodded and sat down on the sofa next to his new friend. “You know, that's the hardest thing about traveling a lot, saying good-bye.”

Peter smiled weakly and nodded. “Your dad told me why you guys have to leave. It’s hard to believe what I saw, but it was wonderful. I hope that you find your mom. I never realized how lucky I am to have mine.”

Scott nodded, “yeah, she’s really great.”

“You're the best friend I’ve ever had,” Peter said softly, “thanks for saving my mom.”

“Well, I only pulled her out of the lake, my dad did the rest.” Scott said modestly.

“Oh come on; don’t underestimate yourself,” Peter said punching his friend on the arm. “I know I probably won’t see you for a long time, but I’m grateful that you’re my friend, and I know that we’ll always be friends.”

“You know we will be, and who knows, if this mess with Fox ever ends, then maybe my dad and I will come back to Garrett,” Scott said.

“I have a feeling it’s going to end a lot sooner than either you or your dad will ever realize,” Peter offered giving his friend a hug.  
  
---  
  
Paul led Maggie into the kitchen and bade her sit down at the table. He closed the door, which would separate the kitchen from the living room. As soon as they were alone, he approached the table, but remained standing. His eyes eventually sought hers. “You knew we would have to leave, Maggie.”

“But why must you go now? What about Peter? What about your promise?” Maggie’s questions began to come out in rapid succession and finally Paul placed his hands on her shoulders to quiet her. Feeling the pressure of his hands on her shoulders, she stopped asking and waited for him to say something.

“I want you to understand what Peter already does. Scott and I have to go. We don’t want to, but remember what I told you earlier about a teenager needing his mother’s nurturing?” Upon seeing her nod, he continued, “Scott and I are trying to find his mother. He and I would love to find Jenny and be a family like what you have here with Joe and Peter. I think you know deep down inside that our staying here wouldn’t help Peter any more than it would bring us closer to what it is Scott needs. Right now, the relationship that your son has with you and Joe is the most important thing. Not whether or not Scott and I have the power to help your son, he’s finding that power within himself.”

Maggie nodded, defeated. “The doctor said I have two months left to live and you’re talking about me having a good relationship with my son. How can I?” her voice started to tremble and tears began to stream down her cheeks. “You and Scott are the only friends my son has, and now you’re leaving.”

“Maggie, I want you to do something after we leave, sit down and speak to your son. What I can’t explain to you now, he will,” Paul said. “I know you are in a lot of pain right now, but don’t forget, you haven’t died, don’t talk like you have.” He paused as he took a deep breath. “Did you ever think about getting a second opinion when you were diagnosed? You might consider doing so if you haven’t yet. I want to help you, but I don’t know how, and I think you know that our leaving is best.”

Maggie looked up wanting to speak, but Paul had already left the room and met Scott in the living room. “Are you ready to go?”

Scott nodded and smiled weakly at his friend.

Peter reached inside his pocket and pulled the key chain out. Once he removed the key from the chain, he handed the empty key chain to Scott.

Scott accepted Peter’s gift, put it in his pocket and gave his friend a final hug.

At the door, Paul projected a final message to Peter, and once the boy offered a confirming nod; he grabbed his camera bag and one of the two duffel bags.

Scott grabbed the second bag, and with his free arm, waved to Peter and Maggie; who had by then followed Paul out of the kitchen.

After opening the front door, Scott walked outside and after offering a final nod of his head Paul walked out and closed the door behind him.

Peter and Maggie were left standing in the living room.  
  
---  
  
On the road leading away from Garrett, Paul looked at his son. “How are you doing now? Did you get over the dizziness?” He felt somewhat bad that in all of the things that had happened with Peter and his mother, that Scott’s illness had been forgotten.

“I think I’m okay now, thanks to Maggie and Peter. They were great people, weren't they?” Scott offered. “I guess it takes a little bit of time to get over the flu, but I’m fine.”

Paul nodded, “I’m glad, but if you start feeling sick, you should tell me.”

Scott smiled impishly, “you know I will.” He watched as the sun began to descend behind the trees. “There’s still something I don’t understand though. I mean only yesterday you said that we weren’t supposed to go to town, and then Maggie came in and we agreed to go to the park. Why?”

“I had a strange feeling and I didn’t want them to go there alone,” Paul offered. “I wasn’t sure why I agreed to go either, but I think it was good that we were there.”

“Yeah, you saved Maggie’s life,” Scott said with pride in his voice. “But, it was kind of sudden that we left. Wasn’t it? You told me only yesterday that Fox was in town and then that we were supposed to stay. Now we’re back on the road. What gives?”

“I saw Fox at the park when we helped Maggie,” Paul said. “I was afraid that he’d try to arrest us if we had stayed.”

“So, I see you finally came to your senses,” Scott chided his father.

“Scott, I managed to do what it is I needed to do, and once that was done, I thought it would be best if we left town. Fox’s behavior in both the hotel and at the park confuses me, and I sense that whatever is going on with him doesn’t give us the security we need. Like you said, it could be a trick, and I won’t know unless I have the opportunity to not only speak to him, but also to make some sort of physical contact with him.”

Scott nodded, “yeah and speaking of which, don’t you think you should do something about that big gash on your forehead?” He pulled out his sphere and held it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Are you volunteering?” Paul asked looking around the area where they were hitching rides. When he saw no one he nodded to his son.

Scott stopped walking after getting the silent ‘okay’ from his father and began to concentrate on the sphere in his hand. Once his father’s injury was healed, he returned the sphere to his pocket. “Not bad for a teenager, huh?” he asked with a cheeky smile.

Paul placed his hand against his forehead, and smiled. _You’re a surprise a minute, Scott,_ he thought to himself.

_I know._

Paul looked at his son and smiled broadly.  
  
---  
  
Back in Garrett the following morning, Maggie sat down next to her son in the park. “Peter, I have to ask you something? Paul said that you can read thoughts, is that true?”

Peter looked at his mother and answered her question with one word, “yes.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” she wanted to know.

“Because I’ve always felt like an oddity, and Paul and Scott are the first people I ever met who didn’t make me feel that way,” Peter said. “There are a lot of things I could sense about you, and Dad, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry about me. I’ve been able to sense things since I was twelve. I also know about the cancer.”

“You do?” Maggie asked.

Peter nodded, but offered a secret smile. “I have to tell you the truth about Paul. He told me I should.” He told her everything that Paul conveyed to him to explain, leaving out one very important piece of news. He had a feeling that she wouldn’t believe it anyway. 

When he was done, he looked at his mother earnestly. “Just make an appointment at another doctor and you will see for yourself what I mean. I have known from the start that Paul Forrester was more than meets the eye, and now you have to take his advice. Because of him, you’re going to sing the solo at church this Christmas.”

Maggie looked at her son skeptically, but allowed his words to pass. “You think I should get a second diagnosis?”

Peter nodded, “it wouldn't hurt, and think of the good that could come out of it. Besides, if you get a second opinion, then you would have to believe what I told you about Paul and Scott.”

Maggie smiled, looking at the innocent face of her son. “I’ll get a second opinion on one condition.” Peter nodded, all the while anticipated her next words, “please don't tell your father the ET story, he’d have us both committed. Especially, since I feel myself rather compelled to believe it.”

Peter laughed, but after a few seconds passed, he glanced up and saw a short man with thinning hair standing behind his mother. “Good morning. Don’t I know you?” he asked the man. “I saw you here yesterday; you were hiding behind that tree over there.”

The man nodded, “yes, my name is George Fox, and I would like to talk to you and your mother for a few minutes, if I may.”

Peter nodded and moved over so the man could sit down.  
  
---  
  
An hour later, Peter and Maggie had left the park. On his face, Peter carried a radiant smile. When his mother finally asked why it was that he looked so happy, Peter looked at her. “We’re going to see Paul and Scott again,” he began. “That was the man that was chasing them and after seeing what happened yesterday, he has decided to close the investigation.”

“How do you know that?” Maggie was confused. “He never said anything that would indicate he was investigating Paul and Scott, nor did he say he worked for the government.”

Peter cocked his head to one side and gave his mother a lopsided grin. _Now, if only I had the ability to transmit thoughts over a distance._ He thought with a sigh. _Maybe in time, Paul and Scott would sense that as well._  
  
---  
  
Two weeks later, Maggie and Joe Harding walked into the waiting room of the local hospital. The doctor had called her earlier in the week and suggested that she make an appointment as soon as possible. She knew what was coming, she and Joe had to go and get the results of the various tests which she had decided to have done two days after Paul and Scott had left Garrett.

In the waiting room, Joe looked around nervously and Maggie was sitting on the sofa confidently leafing through a magazine. She noticed that her husband carried a look on his face that could have sliced iron. He could not understand why she had subjected herself to these tests again especially since the doctor she had used had come highly recommended.

After some time had passed, she grabbed his hand and whispered in his ear. “Calm down, Honey, the news can’t be any worse than what we already have had.” Joe nodded, but this did little to calm his nervousness. Finally, when her name was called, she grabbed his hand and the two of them stood up together.

Inside the doctor's office, Maggie sat down and Joe paced over by the window. “Mrs. Harding,” the doctor said as he pulled a file from the folder, “first of all, I have to confess that before we ran any tests, I conversed with your other doctor. He said that the case looked pretty hopeless, but he also agreed that a second opinion would be prudent at this stage of the game. After we took your blood and ran the tests, we were amazed.”

He took a sheet of paper off the pile. “These are your first set of test results. These are the second, and when you see them, I think you will understand why the word ‘amazed’ is an understatement.” 

The doctor laid the two sets of results on the desk side by side and slid them across the desk. Maggie looked down at the paperwork. “What does all this mean?”

“It means the cancer is gone, and that you are probably one of the healthiest patients I have ever treated.” The doctor pulled a third sheet of paper from the folder. “One of my other colleagues was also asked to run the same set of tests with the information we got from you, and he has confirmed as well that your cancer has gone into remission.”

Maggie looked up at her husband and back at the doctor. She immediately broke down crying. _Now I know what you were trying to tell me, Paul,_ she thought to herself as she attempted to accept the miracle that she had been praying for.

Her thoughts turned to her son. He had been the reason she had made many of the choices here, and now all she could do is accept the fact that her son had been right in his predictions. Paul had been right, her son had some indescribable abilities, and because he used them, she would be singing the solo in church again this Christmas.

The end


End file.
